


A New Customer

by MrsMollyH



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMollyH/pseuds/MrsMollyH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is still captain of the Black Pearl and has just accomplished a plunder. He wants to celebrate and meets Giselle (Slappy Hands McCorseted Wench) in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Customer

To most, Tortuga is the home of whores and drunkards, a building ground for vile doing of vile men; but for Captain Jack Sparrow, the den of iniquity was a land of opportunity. Tipping his head back, Jack read the tavern’s sign. The Three-Legged Dog was known around the Caribbean for more than simply fine alcohol. He pushed open the pair of swinging doors and took a full look at the room.

The entire place seemed comfortably rough around the edges: men either drowned their sorrows or brawled with them here. Every once in a while, the captain would see a girl grasp a man’s wrist and lead him behind curtains to another room.

“Are ye lookin’ fer sommin’, sih?” a female voice asked from his left. He turned his head to see from whence the voice had come.

Soft blonde hair was piled in a high knot atop her head and dark kohl—too much of it—rimmed her eyes.

“You see, miss…?” Jack paused, a few trinkets in his hair jingling softly. The young woman curtseyed, “Call me Giselle, darling,” she said.

“Well, ye see, Miss Giselle, I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, captain o’ the Black Pearl.” The young harlot’s eyes widened generously. “And I’m in search of a place t’celebrate me latest plunder, savvy?” he cocked an eyebrow at her, peering down his sculpted nose at her hourglass figure—the shape a sham created by laces and boning, he knew.

Grasping his wrist, Giselle granted him an almost broken smile and led him to the room beyond the curtains. Because she led him, Jack could make out small half-moon shaped cuts on the nape of her neck—her previous customer marking his conquest, no doubt. A blonde curl fell down her narrow back, along the boning of her light blue corset. She had been beautiful once.

Giselle pushed aside the filmy curtains to reveal a small room, furnished with a bed, a small end table and a mahogany vanity. The mirror, once clear and ovular, was now permanently fogged and had cracked in half. jack could barely make out his own face in the reflection. He looked almost ghostly because of the clouding.

“Time to celebrate, aye?” she said. Hands moving to his waist, the blonde tugged the pirate into a rough kiss as she worked the old-fashioned laces at each of his prominent hips.

Not caring where this led, Jack let go of any worries he had held before; he let the kiss envelop him.

She tasted of hard work and desperation, she smelled of her previous customer’s satisfaction, and yet her skin was soft and her frame was delicate enough that she made Jack believe the lie she was selling. His hands on her waist, he slid them to the laces of her corset, deftly undoing them with ringed fingers.

Breaking the kiss, she slid the corset from her body, revealing small breasts and an underfed frame. Jack’s warm hands clutched her waist almost protectively, pulled her into a consuming kiss, holding her body tight to his chest.

Fingers at his waist, Giselle automatically dipped the digits below the fabric and stroked his hard length, barely concealed by the breeches. With a bite, Jack took lead in the kiss, dipping his tongue into her mouth and clutching her hips with rum-lined fingernails.

As her slim hand stroked him, Jack became more aggressive with each pump, his palm slipped to her outer thigh, where he pulled up her skirts and caressed the bruised flesh there.

“Sir,” she broke the kiss with the word, “Shoul’ I tend ta this?” she motioned at the erection. Jack shook his head “no”.

“On the bed, love,” he told her; she complied. Pushing her skirts to her hips, Jack gave her a moment to adjust to the idea of being considered. When her eyes met his, he lowered his head and let his mouth drift to the juncture of her legs, where he slipped his tongue inside of her. Jack took the liberty of catching her lower back as she arched, running his fingernails over the flesh there. Allowing his tongue to run along her sensitized flesh, Jack felt each nerve twist as he worked her skin.

Releasing her from his tongue’s undoing, Jack slithered up her body and met her lips with an incendiary kiss as he slid inside her, allowing the warmth of her to take him in.

She wasn’t inexperienced, he knew, but she could act, and she could act well. The fact that this wasn’t Jack’s first time with a whore wasn’t lost on her. The fact that he was pushing thirty was there, in the open. The fact that she had been doing this since she was sixteen was there, too.

But it was still good. The thrusts were hard, and they moaned in unison—neither had stopped feeling pleasure simply because their daily lives pushed it from them. Jack’s tongue delved into her mouth, hoping to push away those memories that were always there: the last customer, the one who hit, or the one who had cut her during his last visit.

As they rocked, their hips met with each push, and Jack thumbed her nipple, bringing it to hardness. A fingernail traced the outline of her ribs as he slid in and out of her.

Jack felt her tense, felt her fingernails dig into his arm, and he thrust into her hard and as she tightened so did he, both tipping the scale of completion. Pulling from inside her, Jack relaced his breeches and gave her a kiss on the mouth.

“Thank ye, love.” With a kiss, he dropped a small black bag containing a single crown to the table, and as he opened the door, he pocketed the one she kept on the inside of her skirts. The six guineas inside had been heavy enough so that he sensed them as he’d pushed her skirts to her hips.

As he left the Three-Legged Dog, he smiled to himself.


End file.
